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Almighty Cell-O - On Fire (prod. by Jacob Wilder) Lyrics



Almighty Cell-O - On Fire (prod. by Jacob Wilder) Lyrics




Tell you what it is
Tell you what I know
We gettin money boi
And y'all niggas broke
Punk fakin tryin to be me
In this game we're in
You're never last B
Um pass beef
Duckin the altercations
Why let these rappers in
When there is not a single vacant
Um running out of patients
My fear left too
So uma go in hard yeah
Viagra proof
I damage the booth
Like a train reck
You're an amateur dude
In um a f*ckin vet
Five star nigga
Put em on my neck
Niggas tryin to flex
When they ain't got shit
Feel like um rich as hell
Y'all ain't bout shit
Man It makes me sick
Right to the stomach
Watching you wack ass rappers
Somethin I can't stomach
Just the sight of you niggas make me wanna vomat
That's when real comes out I gotta weak stomach
Strapped up ready ride
In um leavin the hornist
I gave momma a promise
That before she go
She gon be one of the riches women the holy city knew
Can't forget about my daughters and first lady too
Um in love with the truth
Man I can't even lie
Sometimes I want to
Something I can't even hide
Even if I wanted to
And if hip hop the bride
Then nigga um the groom
Name a nigga out here better then me
I make it hard for these other rappers
Who out here tryin to compete
I hold my on
Standing on two feet
So much money on my mind
A nigga barely can sleep
Who checks the time as the days go by
Sometimes I feel um just blessed
To still be alive
I can count numerous night
In the hospital bed
Wake up the next day
Don't even know what I did
Tokela told me well she said
It ain't all about me
She say you you selfish mutherf*cka
Why you tryin to hurt me
Lookin stupid as I take it all in
I made a promise to myself I'll never do again
For my three girls I would give em the world
Cause these three girls
They my whole world
Man
I man'd up
Yeah
Got on my shit
That's why everytime I make a song
That mutherf*cka a hit
Um up to bat an I swear I want miss
Everytime I hear a beat I start clinching my fist
Here goes another twelve round
I knock it out in the sixth
Hopping the fence
Into a yard full of snakes
One of the greats
F*ck what a hoe nigga say
My style is rare
Like a uncooked steak
I gotta keep this rap real
Cause the copetion is fake
So I say
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English

Tell you what it is
Tell you what I know
We gettin money boi
And y'all niggas broke
Punk fakin tryin to be me
In this game we're in
You're never last B
Um pass beef
Duckin the altercations
Why let these rappers in
When there is not a single vacant
Um running out of patients
My fear left too
So uma go in hard yeah
Viagra proof
I damage the booth
Like a train reck
You're an amateur dude
In um a f*ckin vet
Five star nigga
Put em on my neck
Niggas tryin to flex
When they ain't got shit
Feel like um rich as hell
Y'all ain't bout shit
Man It makes me sick
Right to the stomach
Watching you wack ass rappers
Somethin I can't stomach
Just the sight of you niggas make me wanna vomat
That's when real comes out I gotta weak stomach
Strapped up ready ride
In um leavin the hornist
I gave momma a promise
That before she go
She gon be one of the riches women the holy city knew
Can't forget about my daughters and first lady too
Um in love with the truth
Man I can't even lie
Sometimes I want to
Something I can't even hide
Even if I wanted to
And if hip hop the bride
Then nigga um the groom
Name a nigga out here better then me
I make it hard for these other rappers
Who out here tryin to compete
I hold my on
Standing on two feet
So much money on my mind
A nigga barely can sleep
Who checks the time as the days go by
Sometimes I feel um just blessed
To still be alive
I can count numerous night
In the hospital bed
Wake up the next day
Don't even know what I did
Tokela told me well she said
It ain't all about me
She say you you selfish mutherf*cka
Why you tryin to hurt me
Lookin stupid as I take it all in
I made a promise to myself I'll never do again
For my three girls I would give em the world
Cause these three girls
They my whole world
Man
I man'd up
Yeah
Got on my shit
That's why everytime I make a song
That mutherf*cka a hit
Um up to bat an I swear I want miss
Everytime I hear a beat I start clinching my fist
Here goes another twelve round
I knock it out in the sixth
Hopping the fence
Into a yard full of snakes
One of the greats
F*ck what a hoe nigga say
My style is rare
Like a uncooked steak
I gotta keep this rap real
Cause the copetion is fake
So I say
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Marcellus Moore
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid




Almighty Cell-O - On Fire (prod. by Jacob Wilder) Video
(Show video at the top of the page)


Performed By: Almighty Cell-O
Language: English
Length: 3:01
Written by: Marcellus Moore

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